


Fine Line: Chapter 10 Outtake

by galaxiesundone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Outtakes, personally i hate this but i hope the horny people have fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:55:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29960574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxiesundone/pseuds/galaxiesundone
Summary: That one horny edition of Chapter 10 ofFine Line.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Fine Line: Chapter 10 Outtake

**Author's Note:**

> I’m going to be real: this is terrible and I hate it. But I also don’t want to be that person who always breaks their promises, so here’s the outtake from Chapter 10. Unedited, feels like I wrote it with one hand in my pants, and backdated because I don’t want it showing up in the tags.

He must have fallen asleep somehow, though, because when he next opened his eyes, he found himself in an all-too-familiar graveyard.

The marble gravestone was hard against his back, and the ropes chafed his wrists, like they had a thousand times before. He had lived Voldemort’s return over and over until he could reconstruct the scene perfectly behind his eyelids, playing out beat by beat: Cedric dropping to the ground in a flash of brilliant green light; Wormtail dragging him to Tom Riddle Senior’s grave, slashing a knife over his forearm, speaking the incantations in a trembling voice; Voldemort rising from the cauldron, monstrous, serpentine, eager for Harry’s death. Even the tiniest of details—the ivy snaking over the crumbling stone obelisk beside Cedric’s body, the silhouette of a manor house in the distance—were glass-clear to him.

But tonight, Voldemort was nowhere to be seen. 

Taking his place, of course, was Tom Riddle, walking towards Harry as if he had all the time in the world. 

The mist parted for him, step by deliberate step. His gaze was intent on Harry’s, unblinking, and there was a slight mocking tilt to his lips. A few locks of pitch black hair curled artfully over his forehead. It was unfair how beautiful he was. It was doubly unfair how Harry couldn’t stop noticing that.

“A graveyard? Really original,” he shot at Riddle, who didn’t respond, didn’t break stride, didn’t even acknowledge that Harry had spoken. The silence was off-putting, but Harry refused to fill it. He wouldn’t be intimidated, or regretful, or whatever Riddle was going for. He wouldn’t apologise, no matter how much Riddle tortured him. He wouldn’t—

Riddle reached out, and his train of thought came to a crashing stop.

Elegant fingers sprawled over his cheek. They lingered for a second, trailed down the angle of his jawline, made their way to his chin. It was barely a touch at all, only a faint warmth in the shape of a hand, yet it was enough to make his breath catch in his throat. Then, without warning, blunt fingernails dug into his skin and forced his head back against the gravestone. 

“I wasn’t aiming for originality,” Riddle said, dragging his eyes up and down Harry’s form with an intensity that made Harry want to run. Or blind him. “I just prefer you this way.”

Harry had been about to bite out something or the other, but at Riddle’s words, his mind blanked. What did Riddle mean? Was he playing with him, trying to throw Harry off balance? 

“What do you want?” he demanded. 

His smirk fading, Riddle released Harry’s face, leaving behind a row of stinging half-moon marks. “We need to have a conversation.”

“About?”

“That stunt you pulled was impressive, I admit,” Riddle began. “It isn’t often someone catches me off guard, especially since we share a body. Clever, to use my weaknesses against me. Cleverer still, to secure Malfoy’s life from me using the Unbreakable Vow.”

He stepped even closer, until he was brushing against Harry, his hands on Harry’s shoulders. Harry stared up at him, frozen in place. Although it was obvious Riddle was manipulating him, flattering him, he could only think about how, if Riddle shifted, angled his head just so, their lips would meet.

Riddle leaned forward, then, and Harry thought his heart might leap out of his chest in a panic, but he was simply setting his mouth to Harry’s ear. 

“Very clever indeed, but I have a body to regain, and  _ we _ have a Dark Lord to defeat. I can’t afford for you to risk your life again.”

Harry shuddered, suppressed a gasp. He couldn’t focus with Riddle so close, his breath ghosting hot against flushed skin, his voice low and silky. Riddle was distracting him, and it was  _ working _ , and he couldn’t do anything about it. Unless he woke up, he was trapped for however long Riddle wanted.

An extremely stupid, brainless part of him wasn’t completely upset at that. 

“Unfortunately, in real life, tying you up to keep you out of trouble is not an option.” Riddle paused. “For now.”

“Wh—”

“I like you, Harry,” Riddle continued, pulling back slightly. “You’re interesting. You’re more intelligent than I anticipated. And it would be much more pleasant if we stayed on the same page. For both of us.” 

His hand drifted to Harry’s collar, and Harry inhaled sharply. 

_ It’s a distraction, he’s playing with you, he’s manipulating you into going with what he wants, _ he chorused in his head. But knowing didn’t make it any easier when Riddle was so  _ close _ . Like one of the various dreams he’d had over the years, ending in stained sheets and private fury at his subconsciousness.

…Only, this time, it was real. Every last bit of it. From the shadow of Riddle’s lashes against his pale skin, to the hand against his throat, fingertips brushing lightly against his skin—almost like the dream he’d had, the one Riddle had dug up in their Occlumency sessions together. Sixteen-year-old Riddle in the Chamber of Secrets, seizing Harry by the collar, pulling him in for a searing kiss, his mouth hot and wet and demanding, his teeth sinking into Harry’s lower lip, his other hand grasping the front of Harry’s trousers…

Harry tried desperately to clear his mind, to stop remembering one of the most distressingly erotic dreams he’d had in his life. But Riddle’s face was right in front of him, somehow too knowing without the slightest shift in expression, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the way the Riddle in his other dream had pinned him to the wall, pressed his body against Harry’s.

And involuntarily—

Riddle’s eyes trailed lower. Harry desperately wished to be somewhere, anywhere, else. Serving detention. Facing Voldemort. Anywhere but here, horribly, unwillingly turned on in front of—

“I’ve barely even touched you,” Riddle said softly, a mocking little smile playing at his lips. “But you’d like me to, wouldn’t you?”

**Author's Note:**

> From here, the chapter was supposed to segue into Harry going “no fuck you” and Tom scarring him mentally with the Legilimency thing lol. 
> 
> On the bright side, I’m 5k into Chapter 11 <3


End file.
